


Flirting War

by Rymdunge



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:57:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rymdunge/pseuds/Rymdunge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill of this prompt from the CP-meme: http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/4885.html?thread=8227861#cmt8227861</p><p>"On a long cargo flights, Douglas, Martin (and possibly Arthur) start playing a game of flirting with each other. It gets more intense and detailed over time.</p><p>It takes a long time before they realize it was never really a game."</p><p> </p><p>There is some deviation from the original prompt. I hope that's fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flirting War

”Best pick-up lines.”

Martin rolled his eyes and let out a loud sigh. ”No thanks, Douglas.”

”Oh, come now, Martin!” Douglas coaxed, leaning a bit closer to the Captain’s seat. ”You must have at least a _few_ good pick-up lines!”

”As it happens, no I don’t,” Martin said, exasperated. ”Besides, it’s not as if those actually _work.”_ Not that he did much picking up at all, pick-up lines or no, aside from boxes and furniture, of course.

”Well, not for _you,_ at least,” Douglas said with a smirk and a wiggle of the eyebrows.

”Oh, as if you’d be able to seduce someone by asking them if it hurt when they fell from Heaven!”

Douglas snorted. ”If that’s the best you can do, no wonder you’re having trouble!” Before Martin could retort, he went on to say: ”All right, we’ll widen it a bit. The person who is the best at flirting gets the whole cheese-tray to himself.”

Martin felt the situation, as situations were wont to do, slipping out of his control, and the chance of him getting out of this with his pride intact was getting slimmer and slimmer by the second. ”Right, and how do you suggest we’d go about judging it? B- Because, and I- I could be wrong, but I’m _fairly_ certain that Arthur and us are the only ones on the plane.”

”Arthur and _we,”_ Douglas corrected lightly. ”I’m not suggesting we ask for _Arthur’s_ help. We’re both honest sportsmen, aren’t we?” Martin snorted at that. ”I’m sure either of us would admit defeat if we knew we’d lost. Not that you have to worry about _my_ honesty, since I am going to win.”

”So, who exactly where you planing for us to flirt with?” Martin asked sceptically, still hoping against all hope that he’d be able to avert this whole thing.

”Why, _each other,_ of course!” Douglas said grandly. ”After all, who can judge the effectiveness of flirting better than the person being flirted with?”

”But neither of us are attracted to one another!” Martin squeaked. He looked over at Douglas, only to find the older man staring straight at him, resting his chin in the palm of his hands and smiling ever so slightly at him.

”Douglas?” Martin prodded after a few seconds of awkward silence.

Douglas flinched slightly and blinked a couple of times. ”Ah, sorry, I got distracted by your mouth.”

Martin felt a wave of heat wash across his face. He wondered hysterically, if the sudden increase in temperature had been enough to make his head steam. It felt almost as if it had.

”D- Douglas!” he shrieked!

”Has anyone ever told you that you have an absolutely _lovely_ mouth?”

”Douglas!” Martin said, trying and failing to sound stern.

”It makes you so easy to read. The way you bite your bottom lip when you’re trying to hide your irritation.”

”Seriously, Douglas…”

”And the way you lick your lips when you’re nervous. And your smiles; _oh your smiles!_ Be it the small, shy ones, or the wide, unguarded ones that light up your whole face, I find them positively captivating.”

”Douglas…” Martin pleaded.

”I _do_ love it when you say my name,” Douglas purred.

”Dou…” Martin snapped his mouth shut to stop himself from saying the name again. 

Douglas widened his eyes slightly, his dark brown irises gleaming with something Martin had never seen before. ”What’s the matter, _Captain?”_ he asked, in a tone of voice very similar to his normal, teasing one. The only difference was the way he said Martin’s title. His voice darkened, and dipped into a warm murmur. And he kept on talking! Using the same damn voice! ”You’re going to lose if you just sit there.”

”Ah- Ah- Uh- I- Umm-”

”Lose what? Oh! What are we playing!?” Martin almost jumped out of his seat. He hadn’t noticed the door to the flight deck opening.

”Sorry, Arthur,” Douglas said, his voice suddenly completely back to normal. ”I’m afraid this particular game is between me and my Captain only.” He glanced over at Martin, as if to make sure that he had picked up on the possessive pronoun. He had.

”Aww,” Arthur said, without sounding too disappointed. ”Anyway, I’m making hot drinks. What do you want?”

”Coffee,” Martin choked out.

”Tea for me, please,” Douglas said.

”Oh! Do you want honey in it! I bought some the other day, only I’d forgotten that I don’t actually like honey!”

”No thanks,” Douglas said, giving a slight wave of dismissal. ”I’ve already got my own honey right here.” He sent Martin a smirk, that only widened as the Captain’s face got redder.

Arthur looked back and forth between them with a confused crease between his brows. ”All right then!” he said, starting out hesitantly and ending with his usual cheeriness. ”Back in a minute!” And with that, he disappeared out the door.

Martin sat speechless, staring dumbly at Douglas and opening and closing his mouth in hope that some coherent words would suddenly emerge. Douglas chuckled, his voice back to the dark murmur it had been before. ”You look quite lovely when you’re flustered. Did you know that?”

”You’re distracting me!” Martin blurted. ”This is how it always is! You don’t give me time to come up with anything, and I can’t think when you keep doing…” He waggled his hands in the air in a twitchy, uncontrolled motion. _”That!”_

Douglas raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly to the side, causing his fringe to fall across his forehead in an almost boyish manner. ”Whatever do you mean by ‘that’?”

 _”All of it!”_ Martin exclaimed. ”I can’t concentrate with all the- the- the murmuring and rumbling, and the hair and…” He hurriedly clasped his hand over his mouth to stop the relentless flood of words.

Douglas just smiled. ”I’m glad that I have such a strong effect on you, Captain.”

”No more than usual,” Martin muttered, crossing his arms over his chest in a huff.

”’No more than usual’?” Douglas repeated, his smile growing positively wolfish.

Martin frowned. ”You’re always like this when we’re playing games – or doing anything really. You just go on talking and talking and won’t let me get a word in edgeways. I don’t feel like I’m being flirted with right now. I feel like I’m under attack!” A tad dramatic, perhaps, but none the less true.

There was a moment of silence before Douglas spoke. ”All right,” he said. ”Sorry, Martin, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”

”Thank you,” Martin breathed.

There was another stretch of silence, and Martin was just starting to relax, hoping that Douglas had decided to drop the whole thing.

”Well?” No such luck.

”Well, what?”

”I’m quiet now. The stage, so to speak, is yours.”

”Ah, all right. Uh… Hang on!” Martin looked out at the sky, trying to relax and clear his head. His leg twitched with nervous energy, and his tongue kept darting out to wet his lips (damn it).

After about half a minute of silence, he let out a frustrated noise and buried his face in his hands. ”See, this is what always happens, too! Once I’ve got the chance to say something, I’m to wound up to think clearly!”

”I don’t know what you expect me to do, Martin,” Douglas said, not without the slightest hint of frustration.

Martin pulled his hands away, but kept his gaze fixed on his feet. ”Nothing, just… Just forget it,” he mumbled. ”You win, i guess.” Silence again. This time, tense and heavy.

”I was lying before, you know,” Martin said softly, almost hoping that Douglas wouldn’t hear him.

”About what?”

”When I said that neither of us were attracted to one another.” The flush spread across his face once again, all though not with the same intensity as before.

”Oh,” Douglas breathed.

”Sorry, forget I said anything.”

”Oh,” Douglas said again, or _growled,_ to be more accurate. ”Well, now you’ve done it.”

Martin looked up and was met by the sensation of lips pressing against his own, tenderly, but still with sureness and authority. Douglas placed a hand at the nape of Martin’s neck, and pulled his head forward in the space between their seats. A shiver raked through Martin’s body and he let himself be pulled.

It was a short, almost chaste kiss (they were flying a plane, after all), but Martin still felt breathless when it was over. They pulled away, but not the whole way back into their seats. Douglas still had his hand on Martin’s neck.

”Well…” Martin said, swallowing loudly. ”I guess this means I get the cheese-tray.”

Douglas’ eyes widened comically. ”Excuse me?”

”Well, I did manage to get you to kiss me,” Martin went on, silently amazed at how steady his voice was. ”That _has_ to be the mark of successful flirting.”

”Martin, you where practically _begging_ for me to kiss you!” Douglas protested, still without taking his hand away, Martin noted.

Just like Martin knew when he was losing control of a situation, he had also learned to use the few (very few) times he did have the upper hand to his full advantage. ”Was I? I don’t remember that. I remember that all you managed to do was making me feel embarrassed, while _I_ got you to kiss me.”

”By mumbling to yourself!” Douglas protested.

”We never said it had to be a _specific kind_ of flirting. Whatever happened to good sportsmanship?”

”Fine,” Douglas said with feigned nonchalance, only now taking his hand away and leaning back into his seat. ”You can have the silly cheese-tray.” He turned to look out the side-window, but Martin caught the irritated (and maybe, maybe a little disappointed) look on his face.

It was tempting to hold on to this victory for a _bit_ longer, but in the end, he’d probably benefit more from having Douglas in a good mood (ahem).

”If you’re nice, I might let you have some.”

Douglas turned away from the window, and when he laid eyes on Martin’s suggestive smile, a matching one spread across his face. ”Oh, trust me, Captain. I can be _very_ nice.”


End file.
